


In His Arms

by KaCole



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: 25 Days of Voyager, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, Episode: s04e15 Hunters, F/M, New Earth (Star Trek), Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: Kathryn Janeway reflects on the times she has found herself in her first officers arms
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 47
Kudos: 145
Collections: 25 Days of Voyager (2019)





	1. Chapter 1

I pause in the hallway, glance up at the decoration hanging from the ceiling, and deliberately choose to wait, just here. He’ll come out soon enough. What I’ve decided to say really shouldn’t faze me, but I soon find myself tap, tap, tapping my fingers on the nearby door frame. Take a breath, Janeway! All appearances to the contrary I'm not a nervy schoolgirl, but a Starfleet Admiral.

No, no, no. Forget about Starfleet. Tonight I need to be all Kathryn.

He’s taking a bit of time, but I force myself to wait. The irony is not lost on me, of course. That’s the story of our lives, taking far too long to get to the places we need to go. We’ve been through so much to end up here, tonight. All those years of _almost_ and _maybe_. I tug at my hair impatiently. It’s longer again now, just like it was when we met.

_Ten years previously._

I squint at the tiny probe on _Voyager’s_ view screen. Something’s bothering me about the way the device is sending a steadily increasing stream of data on multiple frequencies.

“Captain, I’m detecting an activation pattern our lateral array,” Harry Kim says, just as Torres reports a dip in the integrity of our Dilithium matrix. A moment later Tom complains the helm is sluggish.

I just don’t like it, and suddenly I realise why. That probe is a lure, holding us here while it worms its way into our systems. “Tom, hard to port!” I bark.

He veers away from the probe, just as a shower of sparks arc up from the tactical station, and within seconds chaos erupts on the bridge.

Tuvok barely keeps his feet. He calls something I can’t hear over metal grinding and alarms clamouring. Smoke fills my vision and bites at my lungs. I gasp for breath. It’s a hellish mess of heat and noise and confusion, and in it all, Chakotay suddenly lurches towards me, yelling, yanking at me.

His momentum carries us in a desperate stumble. I don’t resist, trusting he’s doing his best to save us both from something I can’t see. Seconds later I’m falling towards _Voyager’s_ deck, tangled in his arms. He ends up awkwardly on top of me, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He looks at me with an expression I don’t have time to decode, but a spark runs through me nonetheless.

To my left, where I’d stood moments before, a hefty section of bulkhead crashes to the floor. It would have crushed me, without question.

I barely draw breath before Harry shouts, “Three Kazon vessels closing in!”

Chakotay and I leap to our feet.

“Evasive manoeuvres,” I shout, needlessly, as Tom is wrestling _Voyager_ away from the deadly Kazon trap, but not before we take hits to the left nacelle and aft saucer section.

“I’ve lost power!” Tom shouts. “Impulse engines only.”

I stagger to my console and activate comms. “Engineering. We need the warp engines, now.”

“Working on it,” comes my newly appointed Chief Engineer’s voice through the chaos. The seconds tick by.

At last, Voyager lurches to warp and into clear space.

The day gets worse before it gets better, though. Emergency damage repairs take us late into the night. We lose Ladbury and Jamison, and the EMH battles for hours to save four crewmen sleeping in their quarters when the bulkhead blew out. We are lucky only to lose two lives.

It isn’t until much later, alone, exhausted, sitting silently in my quarters, that I get the chance to reflect. My newly minted first officer flung himself into peril to drag me out of it. He almost certainly saved my life. He did his job, I did mine, but suddenly, I need a dose of human connection that transcends duty. I want to thank the man for saving my life. I grab a fresh shirt, and although my hair is still damp and tangled from the shower, I step next door to his quarters.

As I chime his door I catch myself in second thoughts. Is this appropriate? But it’s too late now. The door opens. He looks surprised to see me.

For a moment I fear he’s not alone. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I say quickly.

“Not at all. Please come in.” He steps back, graciously. He _is_ alone; a book balanced on his sofa, a cup of tea half drunk on the small table beside it.

“I won’t intrude on your evening,” I say quietly. “I just wanted to thank you. For saving my life today, on the bridge.”

He smiles and inclines his head. “As I recall, you saved all our lives today, by seeing that trap for what it was.”

“Not soon enough,” I murmur.

He nods, sadly. “I think that out here, a good day is when we save more lives than we lose, Captain.” His words are soothing, kind, and almost painful to hear. “Would you like a cup of tea?” he goes on. “I guess it’s a little late for coffee.”

He has a few things to learn about me. “It’s never too late for coffee.”

He raises an eyebrow, but heads to the replicator without comment.

“Well,” I venture, looking around his room, “If you harboured any desire to take command of this ship, then you let the perfect opportunity slip through your fingers today.”

He turns sharply. “Taking this ship from you has never once crossed my mind.”

I’m instantly sorry for my careless quip. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m just very grateful I ended up under you instead of a bulkhead.” Damn, that didn’t come out right either, because he blushes. I blush, too, and neither of us are sure where to look.

I need to nip this in the bud. I step forward and squeeze his arm. “I’ll skip the coffee. But thank you.” Heat flushes my face as I back away, unsure if I’ve just made the situation better or worse. He watches me go, and there’s that look again, the one I can’t quite decode, but am starting to figure out. One thing is for sure. I need to avoid ending up in his arms again anytime soon.


	2. The Angry Warrior, the Plasma Storm and the Captain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janeway reflects on the times she's kept Chakotay waiting, and remembers New Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This quick story is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point out any typos!!!

I continue to watch the door. What on earth is he doing? I know my impatience is unfair, considering all the time I kept  _ him _ waiting, but I want to cut to the chase now I've made up my mind.

Of course, making up my mind around Chakotay is hardly my strong point. 

One particular night, night, many years ago, might have ended very differently if I’d been able to make up my mind. Looking back, it's hard to fathom the choices I made while we were stranded on New Earth. I think I was tangled up in hope I'd somehow get home to Mark. Or perhaps my identity was still so fused to my rank that I forgot I was a human being with wants, needs and desires. Or tried to forget. I didn't always succeed. 

**Eight Years Previously, New Earth. The Night of the Angry Warrior.**

"Is that really an ancient legend?" I ask, abjectly failing to hold back a tear. 

"No. But it made it easier to say," he tells me. 

His gentle smile makes my heart skip. For all my talk of parameters, if he leans over to kiss me now, I'm not sure I won’t melt into his arms. But he doesn’t do that. He respects my boundaries, so I get what I ask for; his friendship, compassion and patience. Which is probably more than I deserve given my single-minded pursuit of a cure for the virus that stranded us on this planet, which, if I’m honest, is the very longest of long shots. He thinks my obsession is stopping me—us—making a life here. He might be right, but I just can’t let go. Not yet, anyway. So we sleep in separate beds. 

A few days later I’m so lost in my plans to track the virus’s spread pattern across the planet— _ if _ I can get blood samples from enough mammals, that I don’t notice the crackle and surge of a rising storm until a screech jerks me back into the real world. It’s suddenly much darker than a few minutes ago.

“What is it?” I ask the primate who is sitting, agitated, a few feet in front of me. “What's happened to the sky? If you're suggesting I should get out of here, I agree.” Hell! I’d never be so careless on an away mission. I must be losing my edge.

I grab my equipment and try to run, but a fierce wind whips up from nowhere, lashing the trees and battering low branches into my face. I keep my head down and grip my box tight. It would be easier to move if I let the gear go, but if I let the gear go I lose my research from the last month. I grasp it tighter.

The storm crashes around me. A hurricane of leaves sweep across the clearing, and I barely keep my feet, let alone manage to run. I haven’t felt this alone for so long, and suddenly I ache, with an intensity that suprasses the storm’s, for my family, for my crew, for Chakotay _. _

I can’t see more than a few centimetres ahead of me now, and I have no idea which way to go. The wind screams and branches crack and crash to the forest floor, close, too close. I yelp. A hot metallic tang sears my throat. This is no ordinary storm! Despite the heat now burning my lungs, my hands are chilled. My heart pounds. Gasping, stars form at the edge of my vision, but I force my feet forward. If I fall here, amid the tortured, twisting trees, I’m finished. I’m terrified, but there’s no time to give in to terror. Starfleet training kicks in.  _ Keep moving. Keep upright. _

It feels like it will never end, fighting my way through this deafening maelstrom of bark and dirt and leaves.

I think I’ve imagined it at first, when a voice bellows through the chaos.

“Kathryn!”

“Chakotay!” I scream back. 

I don’t even see him. Suddenly his arm is wrapped around me, his strong frame an anchor in the storm.

“Kathryn! Kathryn. Are you hurt?”

“No. I couldn't keep my balance and carry the case.”

“Give it to me.” He yanks it from my hand.

“What's happening?” I yell.

“It seems to be some kind of plasma storm. Our tricorders don't recognise it, but it sure packs a wallop!”

We run together through the beleaguered forest, the storm rising every second. I can at least run now he’s taken the case, and thank the stars he seems to know which direction to head in. After a wild dash that seems to take forever, our shelter appears through the gale.

Once inside, he flings the case down and drags me under the table.

The noise of the storm makes it impossible to speak, so we cling together, fearing with every crash that a falling tree will crush our little home and us with it. For the first time I realise just how vulnerable we are here. How vulnerable  _ I _ was, lost and alone in the storm, until he found me. It’s not a feeling I relish.

After an indeterminable amount of time, the storm eases, but the winds are still too strong, and the stench is reminiscent of an emergency plasma injector repair. I am weary, sore, and still more than a little concerned that the forest will crash in on us.

“I think we’re better off spending the night under here,” I venture.

“Agreed. I’ll be right back.” Chakotay returns quickly with our pillows and a blanket, then nips off again and comes back with two emergency ration packs and a bottle of water. 

“Sorry, no coffee,” he manages with a grin.

I laugh. “Under the circumstances, you are forgiven.” He sits, and I look him in the eye. “Thank you for coming for me. It was madness out there.”

“I’ll always come for you, Kathryn. No matter what. But I wish you’d dropped the case and taken care of yourself.”

I look away in barely suppressed misery. That case represents my dwindling hope of getting off this planet.

“Still not ready to let go?” he adds softly.

I take a breath to gain some perspective, and let Captain Janeway back to the helm for a while because this helpless feeling doesn’t suit me. “We can assess the damage in morning. Tonight all we can do is try to get some rest.”

He gives me a look that I suspect he thinks is inscrutable, but I can read the complicated wanting in his eyes. The same feeling bubbles in my chest, too, and I don’t really know what to do with it. Yet despite my uncertainty, I know I need to put the captain back in her box. I bite my lip and set my pillow next to his, covering myself with half the blanket, holding the other side up in an invitation for him to lay next to me. He does so. I rest my head against his shoulder and put my hand gently on his chest. He slips his arms around me protectively. 

“I’m not ready to let go yet," I whisper. "But maybe soon.”

Amid the storm’s receding clamour, as I drift into a restless sleep on the cold, uncomfortable floor, realisation strikes me with the force of a hundred plasma storms: the best thing on this whole planet is the feeling of Chakotay’s warm arms wrapped around me.


	3. We Have Plenty of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn is still waiting. She recalls the day in the DQ when they both received bad news from home.

It’s a funny thing, waiting. A person can wait a long time for something, and then become horribly impatient at the final hurdle. That’s how I feel now, as he finishes his business behind that closed door. I have two glasses of mulled wine prepared, and hope in my heart. If only he would hurry up! Of course, If I'm honest, we both know plenty about waiting... 

**Seven years previously...**

“Repair teams have inspected the ship from stem to stern. Except for some maintenance that's needed on the warp coils, everything seems fine."

“I suppose so." Structurally, perhaps we were intact after our run in with the Hirogen. Emotionally it is a different story. The crew longed for contact with home, but when it came… how many of them, like me, got news they didn't really want to hear? And even that has been cruelly ripped away. He hovers, as if is uncertain whether he's welcome to stay, and suddenly I don't want to be alone. "Want some coffee?”

“Thanks.” He takes a seat by my side. “You know, you drink too much of that stuff.

“Really?” I bounce back, while I adulterated his cup with cream and sugar.

“If I'm not mistaken that's your third this morning.

“Fourth.” I correct, amused that he’s keeping track of my caffeine consumption. “And on a day like today, it won't be my last. Coffee - the finest organic suspension ever devised. It's got me through the worst of the last three years. I beat the Borg with it." It's going to take more than coffee to get me through the next few years, and I know it. I just don't know how to tell him that. "Oh, I'm sure Voyager will be fine, but I'm worried that the crew might be a different story. I think they were hoping mail call would become a regular part of their day.”

“I’m sure Neelix’s party will cheer everyone up.” He pauses, and looks at me expectantly. ”How are you doing?”

“Me? I'm fine,” My fiance’s letter just revealed that he married someone else, with what some might consider indelicate speed, so of course I’m not alright. But I don’t have the luxury of crying into my coffee about it, so I wave off-handedly.

Chakotay isn’t fooled by my bravado. I have the feeling he sees right through the captain’s mask, and deep into the tender spot in my heart I’m attempting to clad in steel.

“You'd say that if you'd just had your legs torn off by a Traykan Beast,” he chides gently. “Look what you've been through in the last few days. We finally make a connection with home and then it's ripped away. We make another enemy who's going to try and hunt us down and destroy us, and on top of that…” his voice trails off, as if he’s having second thoughts about prodding my vulnerability.

I wave away his hesitation, partly because it’s probably best to rip the plaster off rather than let this wound fester, and partly because lying to him, even like this, leaves a bad taste in my mouth these days. “It's all right. You can say it. On top of all that, I got a Dear John letter.” I sigh, and deliberately soften my voice as I turn to him. “It wasn't really a surprise. I didn't expect him to wait for me. Maybe… maybe I’ve been using him as a safety net. To avoid getting involved with someone else.” I let myself look at him. Really look at him, at his rich, warm eyes, his gentle smile. I feel myself flush as he holds my eyes with his. 

“You don't have that safety net any more,” he says softly, his fingers resting on my sleeve.

“No, I don’t.” The temptation to move closer to him is almost overwhelming, like a magnetic pull, or a massive body in motion. But much as I want to slip into him, this isn’t a good idea. How would I retain my objectivity if the boundaries between us become blurred?

So, I take the easy way out. I smile ruefully. “Then again, my life is far from uneventful here in the Delta Quadrant. It's not like I would have had a chance to pursue a relationship, even if I had realised I was alone.”

He’s not willing to let go quite that easily. “You're hardly alone,” he rebukes softly, “and to my way of thinking, there's still plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time,” I echo. Time is what we have too much and too little of out here. W e lurch from one disaster to the next with hardly time to catch our breath, while the distance between here and home remains indeterminably vast. We could be a lifetime journeying home. I suppose one day I’ll have to decide if I really want to spend that lifetime all Captain and no Kathryn. But not today.

Neelix summons us to the holodeck, and Chakotay spends the first part of the evening at my side, offering his patient understanding and subtle care. Now the party is in full swing and Chakotay is talking to Mike Ayala. By the way he's tugging on his ear l'd say Chakotay is a little uncomfortable. He makes his excuses to Mike and returns to my side, his brow furrowed. 

"Everything okay?" I ask.

He sighs and rubs his neck. "I have some news to break to all the former Maquis," he says looking away from me. He stares for a long moment into the blackness of space beyond the window. Then he turns back to me. "But I couldn't bring myself to do it tonight." 

"I haven't even asked about your letter," I say softly. 

He closes his eyes briefly, trying to escape a pain he's holding close to his heart, and then he forces a smile. "I'll tell you later." He glances around the holodeck at the sea of happy faces surrounding us. "Tonight is a celebration. I think we should risk some of Neelix's Antarean Hoat'Ken pie, don’t you?" He nods gamely at the buffet table and offers me his arm. 

Still a little puzzled, I thread my arm through his. Together, we make our way through the brightly dressed crew members. Their happy faces belie the concerns I have about their disappointment over us losing the array, and our pipeline for communication with home. They are a solid crew, our dispirit band of ‘fleet and rebels, and that’s largely down to Chakotay’s loyalty to me. It's a night to be glad of many things. Yet, I can't unsee the sorrow that flashed in his eyes a few moments ago. I need to discover what's he is holding back.

As the evening ends, people gradually begin to disperse, and eventually Chakotay and I head back towards our own deck. As we approach my door, I turn to him.

“You want to round the evening off with a coffee?”

He hesitates, his eyes deep and unfathomable. I’ve never invited him into my quarters this late before, and part of me wonders where even this small step will lead us. I’m suddenly aware of crewman Jetal passing behind us, her eyes straight ahead, as if she’s trying not to notice us hovering by my door.

Eventually, after Jetal has rounded the corner, he nods. “Thanks.”

He looks around a little uncertainty as I call for the lights, so I wave him toward the couch. “Tea?” I ask over my shoulder as I approach the replicator.

“Thanks.” He stares out into space. I offer him his tea and sit beside him. 

“You want to tell me about your letter?” I ask gently. “You’ve been so kind to me, but I think you’re holding onto something difficult. Honestly, I’m starting to feel a little selfish. ”

He smiles, sadly, and then he says in a low tone that makes my chest tingle, “Kathryn, your needs come first.”

My voice fails a little, because the intensity of his caring almost floors me. “I know,” I whisper. “But that doesn’t mean your needs don’t matter.”

He pulls his lips tight together. “It was from an old Maquis friend.” He squints his eyes tight shut with the pain of an image he doesn’t want to see. “They’re all gone, Kathryn.”

“What?”

“There was a massacre. Families, children, everyone. Those few who are not dead are in prison.”

“Oh, Chakotay.” Instinctively I rest my hand on his arm. His eyes glisten.

He shakes his head. “I’m trying very hard not to feel angry. But I’ve always found anger a good way to avoid sadness.” He chews on his lip, and then stands to walk to the window. “To be honest, I don’t much like either feeling at the moment.”

I want desperately to say the right thing. “It’s alright to feel sad. It’s inevitable.”

He shakes his head, as if he can somehow dislodge the images from his mind, but of course he can’t. I’m not sure I know how to comfort him, other than to stand myself and move closer to his side. I put my hand tentatively on his arm. He relaxes a little, as if my touch soothes him. Encouraged, I place my hand on this other arm. We are a heartbeat away from embracing. My pulse spikes.

“Kathryn,” he murmurs, uncertainty flickering across his face, as if he wants to hold me and yet can’t cross that line, and doesn’t want to force me across it either. “I’m all right. It’s all right.”

“Perhaps  _ I _ need a hug right now,” I tell him.

He almost chortles. “You?”

I laugh, and wrap my arms around his torso. “Hey, it’s been a tough day, remember?”

He sighs into my arms. We hold each other for a long time, sharing our private pain, letting the day's troubles fade into the background. His body is warm and solid against mine, his arms tender around me. It feels heavenly, if I'm honest.

Sometimes a hug can say more than words ever could, like ‘I have you, my friend.’ Sometimes, though, a hug can open up more questions than it answers, and make a person want things they can’t have. 

Looking back, I suppose that was moment I stopped denying to myself that being in his arms was what I truly wanted. Admitting that to him, and to the world, well, that took a good while longer.


	4. She is in His Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn reflects on how lost things can be found. Admittedly there's a sprinkling of angst in this Christmas good cheer, but I know you JC'ers like your happy endings preceded by a does of the hard stuff.

There are voices talking quietly behind the closed door, one male one female, which, if I’m honest I was rather hoping I wouldn’t hear, because it might put a glitch in my plans for tonight. Of course, I’m no stranger to things coming between Chakotay and I: our roles, my stubbornness, and… Seven. Yes, my protege and friend who became my rival.

**Previously…**

We’re approaching Earth, and I should feel happy, but things feel so fractured between Chakotay I that I can’t even raise a smile. I’ve gotten the crew home and lost him. The relentless pressure of life in the DQ has taken its toll. Most of that is my fault, I don’t mind admitting. I arrogantly thought I could hold him at arm's length and still expect him to wait. Even though a few hours ago the admiral warned me that in her future he marries Seven, I'm still shocked to my core to discover they’re actually together.

I’m in my quarters, restlessly moving a few books into boxes. Chaos will break loose when we hit McKinely Station, so most people are taking time now to organise the things they want to disembark with. I’ve visited B’Elanna and Tom in sickay. Their baby is fine, healthy and beautiful-everything she should be. I’m delighted for them, but I feel incalculably sad for myself. It may be horribly egocentric but I can’t help feeling that I’ve lost more than I’ve gained today. No! This isn’t the attitude of a Starfleet Captain. We’ve done it. We’re  _ home _ . It’s time to celebrate. So why do I feel so weighed down?

My door chimes. “Come,” I call, forcing some warmth into my voice.

“I’ve come to return your book.” Chakotay has my copy of the Divine Comedy tucked under his arm. The irony could not be more fitting. I feel trapped in the icy ninth circle of hell right now, that special zone of punishment reserved for people who betray those who closest to them. I want to squirm right out of my Starfleet issue boots.

I look closely at him, for he’s not comfortable either. Good. I don’t want him to be comfortable with what he’s doing. Not just because he’s hurt me, but because Seven might be a fully grown woman but she’s far from emotionally mature, and frankly, she’s half his age. They have little in common apart from serving on this ship, and I’m doubtful that will hold them together for long. Still. It’s his choice. I just have to suck it up.

He hands me the book. “Did you get to read it?” I ask stiffly.

He nods. “I’m trying not to equate the circles of hell with our journey.” He shoots me a wry smile, as if he's cracking some kind of joke. Actually, I think he’s embarrassed.

“Well. We’re home now,” I snap.

He lowers his eyes. “Yes, we are.”

We are frozen in that moment, trapped in layers of duty and betrayal that have chilled the warmth that existed between us. I want to scream. He looks like he wants to run. I bite my lip, and dig deep to find something magnanimous to say. I’m the captain, after all. And it was my choice to keep us apart, when we both knew that wasn’t what we wanted.

Before I can excavate even a half-witted apology, Tuvok’s voice rings through my comms.

“Bridge to Captain Janeway. We are approaching McKinley Station. I have Admiral Paris for you.”

“I’ll be right there, Tuvok,” I respond. 

Chakotay and I just stare at one another. He doesn’t speak, and any words I might have found die in my throat. Business first. Business, as I’m discovering anew, is easier than dealing with this emotional catastrophe.

“We shouldn’t keep the Admiral waiting,” he finally says.

“Agreed,” I say numbly, before I steel my heart and stride out of the room. 

**Three Months Later…**

Adjusting to life back in the Alpha Quadrant has been more difficult than any of us expected, but at least I’ve been busy. Admiral Hayes says I’m like a targ in heat protecting the interests of my former crew. He’s not wrong.

Six weeks after we arrive home, Tom drops by my office.

“We’ve got a favour to ask, Admiral.”

I smile uncertainly, wondering if this request involves babysitting, and if so whether I’ll be up to the task. Of course I will, I chide myself. I beat the Borg, I can certainly cope with one small part-Klingon. But turns out that isn’t what is on his mind.

“You married B’Elanna and I while we were in the Delta Quadrant.”

“I remember. Neelix’s version of a wedding cake was… interesting.”

“Yeah, as I recall it tasted as interesting as it looked,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose at the memory. He scratches the back of his head. “It’s my mother… She feels like she missed out, and B’Elenna has been mending a few bridges with her father. So we want to renew our vows, you know, in front of our family and friends here. And of course, it would be a chance to bring our  _ Voyager _ family back together.” His eyes narrow slightly in my direction. “ _ All _ of us.”

I ignore his barb, which I’m sure is aimed at me for studiously avoiding Chakotay and Seven. Frankly, I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m happy, but can’t bring myself to be around them together. “I’d be as honoured the second time as I was the first,” I tell Tom.

**Six weeks later**

I’m in my dress uniform, which is pretty much a shapeless sack pulled over black pants, and makes me feel about a hundred and twenty years old. I look out over the sea of faces; Tom and B’Elanna’s family and friends, and our former crew. Seven of Nine, of course, looks radiant in her figure hugging dress, the yellows and oranges perfectly complimenting her long golden hair. She stands at Chakotay’s side, and I try not to notice how magnificent  _ he _ looks in a black tux, smiling proudly as B’Elanna approaches me. He follows our half-Klingon Engineer with his eyes, as she walks right up to where I’m standing, ready to say her vows a second time. Her smile is radiant, and for a moment it chokes me that I’ve never made it to where she is, with a man I love at my side. Chakotay raises his eyes to meet mine. I look away, focusing on B’Elanna and Tom. It’s their day, and I’m not going to let any emotional residue distract me from this most pleasant of duties.

As the day progresses, I try not to watch Seven and Chakotay, but it’s really impossible not to glance in their direction more often than I’d like, and when I do I see Seven kiss Chakotay on the cheek.

She makes her way over to me. “Admiral. It is gratifying to see you.”

I take the opportunity to do what I should have done weeks before. I smile warmly and draw her into a hug. She stiffens, almost imperceptibly now, but the discomfort I have come to expect from my physical touch remains. I hug her anyway. Sometimes actions speak louder than words. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“I leave for the Morgana Quadrant very soon.”

“Oh? A mission? Or personal time?” What I really want to know is if Chakotay is going with her, but I don’t ask that.

“I have been assigned to the Vulcan science vessel  T'Plana-Hath,” she tells me. “Our mission is to study a macroscopic inter-spacial fissure that has developed in the void situated in the quadrant. I will be gone for several months. Although I will admit, it will be difficult to return to deepspace, and leave behind those things with which I have become familiar.” 

I glance at Chakotay. “I’m sure you’ll miss one another,” I say softly.

Seven tracks my gaze and then frowns. “I believe you are under the misapprehension that Commander Chakotay and I remain in a romantic relationship.”

“You’re not?” I say sharply.

“Not for some weeks. In fact we discovered soon after arriving back on Earth that we have very little in common.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It would be churlish to reveal I felt vindicated.

“Our relationship was a mistake,” she goes on. “We remain friends, which is more agreeable to both of us.” She looks at me, with that almost haughty expression I’ve come to know hides vulnerability, and in that moment I reconnect to the genuine warmth in my heart for this brilliant woman, who in her chase for perfection struggles with the simplest of things, and especially with making mistakes. But who doesn’t feel that way? In my own case, the mistake wasn’t rushing into a relationship, but rather avoiding one. Seven and I clearly both still have a lot to learn. She shifts uncomfortably, and I guess that she’s reached her limit of discussion on the topic of Chakotay. 

“So,” I say, “tell me about this  inter-spacial fissure.”

Seven smiles, and begins to describe the complex beauty of the fissure’s sub-atomic structure, and some of the concerns Starfleet has about what might eventually come through, if it continues to expand. As I listen, fascinated, I feel that we are on safe ground again. If only Chakotay and I can get back there, too.

As the evening wears on, the party is in full swing. I want to talk to Chakotay, but just can’t find a way to start. I end up hiding on the hotel balcony feeling faintly ridiculous that I’m avoiding starting a conversation that is long overdue.

B’Elanna, elegant in her white dress, strides onto the balcony, and leans on the rail beside me. “I’m going to stick my neck out here, and gamble that since it’s effectively my wedding day, you’re not going to throw me in the brig,” she says with typical bluntness.

“What’s the problem, B’Elanna?”

Before she can answer, Tom appears with Chakotay in tow. I frown and my former first officer looks confused.

B’Elanna turns to me. “The  _ problems _ is, two people we care about are making each other unhappy. It needs to stop.”

Chakotay watches B’Elanna and Tom scurry away, and then turns to me. “Well, that’s a little on the nose.” He tugs at his ear, and I realise that he’s as uncertain as I am. We’ve a long way to travel to find the comfortable friendship we once enjoyed. I guess we have to start somewhere, so I take a deep breath and broach the topic that has become less like an elephant in the room between us, and more like a raging mammoth.

“I’m sorry to hear things didn’t work out between you and Seven,” I venture.

“Are you?” He looks at me sideways. “I rather hoped you’d be at least a little happy about it.” His frankness disarms me. He smiles a little, and suddenly our friendship doesn’t seem as out of reach as it did a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry if things got difficult between the two of you,” I amend, “but I can’t say I’m really sorry you’re not together anymore.”

“Oh?” he prompts. As always, he respects my boundaries, but this time he’s deliberately not making avoidance easy for me. Even now I’m a little afraid to truly give in to what I feel for him, but I know that for both our sakes the time for honesty is now.

“When you and Seven were together I was...”

Jealous? Angery? Disappointed? Regretful? All those emotions roiled within me during that time. None of those feelings were honourable or enlightening, and all carry shades of blame that won’t help us in the long run. There is one thing I know for sure, so that’s what I tell him. “...I wanted it to be  _ me _ .”

He takes a step towards me, his shoulders tight, his hands raised up to touch my face. “Kathryn,” he says. My name on his lips feels like a sentence in itself, with everything I need bound up in that one word; his unwavering love.

“I’ve been lost without you,” I choke.

He folds me in his arms. “Then you will never be lost again.” 

**Home** .

B'Elanna and Tom’s ceremony was more than five years ago. A lot has happened since then. We’ve all grown and our lives changed in ways we hardly dared dream of when we were lost in the Delta Quadrant. I’m standing in the hallway of our home, and Chakotay is still behind that door. Our daughter, who is almost four, likes to extract maximum storytime from her daddy. 

Finally, he emerges. He grins as he sees me standing under a sprig of mistletoe that I’ve carefully pinned to the ceiling. 

“Is she asleep?” I ask.

“Not a chance. It’s Christmas Eve, and she’s spent the past twenty minutes analysing how Santa could possibly cover the whole planet in one night, and telling me he’ll need a lot of help from his elves very long rest afterwards. I think she’s got your science-brain.”

“And your kindness and compassion,” I say, as I slip my arms around his torso. “She has the best of both of us.”

He wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer. Then he glances up at the mistletoe. “Look where we are,” he says, smiling.

“Fancy that.” We kiss, long and unhurried, for now time is our friend, because there’s no mission but the one we choose for ourselves. After a while, I look up at him. “I have something I want to discuss.” He looks at me expectantly, so I go on, “I know you want to have another baby.”

His eyes twinkle. “Yes. But the timing hasn’t been right. I understand that.”

I laugh a little. “The timing is never really going to be right, is it? I think we should do it anyway.”

He lets his hands drift down to my tummy. “Are you ready for all that again? Swollen ankles and sore hips?” He’s smiling as he says it.

I remember with fondness the hours he spent talking to our growing bump, and the kisses he rained on my belly. “You  _ like _ me pregnant.”

“I like you letting me take care of you.” He grins, and his hands creep around to my backside. “You know what I like more than that, though?”

“Hmm?” I say, pressing myself closer to his warm body, letting the sprinkle of arousal rise in me.

He kisses my neck. “ _ Getting _ you pregnant.”

I quiver in his arms. “Then there’s no time like the present.” We're done waiting. I take him by the hand and lead him towards our bedroom, but at that moment, Anya’s bedroom door bursts open. 

Her worried little face peeks out. “Mommy? Do you think Santa will get lost?”

I turn back and stoop down to this wonderful little human being we created. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” I tell her. “People do get lost, sometimes. But the good thing is, they can always be found again.”

“How?” she asks, her dark eyes wide with wonder.

Chakotay picks her up.  As our little family stands together, with our arms wrapped around one another, I tell her, “With a lot of hard work, persistence and love. That’s how everyone finds their way back to the places that they need to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all who celebrate the occasion!  
> I hope this Voyager love letter is as joyful to read as it was to write.


End file.
